


Leap of Faith

by kristen999



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s01e08 The Defenders, Post-Season/Series 01, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:18:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: Jessica was a damn bleeding heart; it was the only way to explain why the hell she accepted Karen Page as a client. Fix-it coda for the finale.





	Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:Thank you so much to my wonderful beta Esteefee!  
> I haven’t had a chance to read any other fic because I needed to get this out of my system. I can’t wait to dive in.

***

It’d been two days since Jessica got roped into mystic bullshit with ninjas and a cult hell bent on…God, she didn’t even really know, or care. She was just glad it was over.

Rubbing her eyes, she felt the fog of a hangover linger; it rated a three on a scale of one to ten. No biggie. She needed beer, maybe a loaf of bread, because, ugh, eating a sandwich should be on the agenda at some point.

Skipping a shower, Jessica headed out to grab a six-pack, her dark shades shielding her from the afternoon sun. Even in her neighborhood, the air still reeked of concrete and explosives. A few people wore dust masks as they hurried toward the subway. It was the norm now; a city rocked by 9/11 and an alien invasion was used to crumbling buildings and the resulting air pollution.

Jessica slowed down while people shuffled around her, one guy bumping into her. But Jessica didn’t jab him in return. She stared in the direction where Midland Circle once stood, a cloud of dust still hanging over it like a grave marker. 

Her chest ached for a moment before she sucked the pain into the hole where she kept all the other bad stuff hidden away. “You self sacrificing idiot.”

What a waste—but life was just a colossal shit ball of mistakes; some people just made more than others. Rolling her eyes, she crossed the street toward the convenience store to grab her liquid lunch.

***

After obtaining what she needed for his mid-day buzz, Jessica went back to her office and debated whether to throw away yesterday’s garbage. She sat at her desk and opened her laptop, and stared at the three recent tabs left open, all articles on Battling Jack Murdock’s death.

She slammed the computer shut. Fuck. There was no time for this…this sentimental shit. Jessica grabbed a beer and popped it open, some of it spraying over the can from being shaken. “For Christ’s sake.”

While she wiped at the spillage with her hand, the phone rang. She picked it up without thinking. “Yeah?”

 _“Jessica Jones?”_ a woman asked.

“Who wants to know?”

_“My name is Sister Angie, I work at the –”_

“I’m not interested in making a donation,” Jessica said and hung up.

The phone rang several more times and Jessica yanked the cord out of the wall before the answering machine turned on. 

She knew Malcolm wanted to come over later to finish painting, but she chugged the first can of beer instead and reached over to grab the second one.

***

Karen sat in the third pew from the back, in Matt’s church, surrounded by stained glass and the words of God. She came to seek comfort, or find some sort of connection—anything to ease the pain inside her chest.

“Life is really difficult for many people. So many of us feel alone, tired, defeated, and victims of our circumstances,” Father Landom spoke. “We long to have some light break into our darkness, to experience hope in the midst of our pain.”

But the words didn’t help or give her the solace she so desperately sought.

“I believe that light can come from a variety of places—from something you read, a phone call with a friend, an inspirational song…”

She hurt no matter the time of day, when she woke-up, in the shower, even during walks outside. It was a relentless, bone-deep ache. 

Was this how Matt felt all the time, walking around with an entire’s city pain crushing his shoulders?

“That glimmer of light—however small or large—is the first sight of hope and tells a person they can continue…”

Karen tried focusing on Father Landom's words, but her attention was drawn toward the candles, the cross—the symbols of Matt’s faith. 

What were her last words to him….no, the last time she _saw_ Matt. Because they still hadn’t recovered a body. They still hadn’t…

“Ms. Page?”

Karen glanced up to find Father Landom standing next to her, the benches surrounding her empty. Embarrassed, she stood up. “Thank you, Father, for a lovely sermon.”

“Tomorrow I have workshop on healing, if you’d like me to…”

“I really should be going.”

“Grief has its own timetable, but one of the things that can help us onto a path of healing is accepting the pain.”

Karen stared and Father Landom softened his expression. “Maybe it’s time to think about things…about arrangements.”

Karen grabbed her purse. “It’s only been five days; they’re still going through the rubble. They said it would take weeks, maybe even months before they finish going through all the debris.”

“Matthew would have appreciated the amount of faith you’ve placed in him.”

“That’s the problem; I didn't have faith in him. Not when he needed me to.”

Father Landom touched her arm. “I think Matthew had enough to go around for everyone.”

***

Karen remembered how hard it would rain during the first night she’d been inside Matt’s apartment, and during their first date—before the case of the century, or late evening confessions about vigilantes. Back when Daredevil was a mysterious figure, a story to chase, a fascination without consequences, when Daredevil wasn’t in Matt’s body and blood.

She stood in the middle of his living room, the sofa and loveseat in the same spot where she changed into one of his shirts, where she’d found his place smashed to pieces months later. 

The trunk with the suit was still empty.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent the last few weeks pushing him away, seeking space, when maybe all Matt needed was more help.

She cupped a hand to her face as her eyes welled up again with too much guilt and anger, because that was what Matt did: rip her apart with so many feelings. 

In a few weeks, she and Foggy would have to pack-up all of his things and…

No. Karen wiped at her face. She needed to go outside and breathe some fresh air; get away from Matt’s stuff and his complicated life. Karen stopped on her way out, and glanced over at the open sliding-door to Matt’s bedroom. Something felt off…

“This is stupid.” But Karen listened to her gut and she walked toward Matt’s bedroom and stared at his empty bed…at a bare mattress stripped of his sheets and pillows. “What the hell?”

 

***

People needed to stop knocking on Jessica’s door, she might have ripped away brown paper sheet covering the front, but she wasn’t taking any clients right now.

But the asshole only knocked louder. 

Jessica stumbled out of her bed/sofa and stormed toward the door, jerking it open without pulling it off its hinges. “Do you see an open sign?” she snapped. But then she froze when she saw who was standing there.

Karen Page folded her arms across her chest. “Um, you don’t have a sign.”

“Yeah, well. A lack of a sign doesn’t mean unlimited business hours.” Jessica cleared her throat; she knew Page was friends with Matt. The fact she and the other lawyer had been sequestered meant she was important. “But given you’re here, and I’m not busy, how can I help you?”

“Can I come in?” Karen asked.

“Sure, why not?”

Jessica walked back inside, assuming Karen would follow. She took a seat in the chair behind her desk. “What’s up?”

Karen was a fiddler; she played with the straps of her leather bag. “You were with…Matt when he um, stayed behind.”

Oh God, Jessica didn’t have anything to share, there were no last words between her and Matt, no Kodak moment to help Page deal with her grief. “Yeah, I was. But I was a little busy fighting off a bunch of psychopaths with swords and knives.” Karen looked down at her lap and Jessica regretted her choice of words. “Look, what do you need to—”

“Is it possible he could have escaped? Was there a tunnel, or I don’t know, some exit?”

“We were inside the deepest darkest hole I’ve ever been inside except for my last bender. There wasn’t any place to escape.”

“But there was a structure, dragon bones or something? I asked Mr. Rand and he told me about them.”

Jessica rolled her eyes at the mention of Danny’s name. “Yeah, he’ll tell anyone who’ll listen.”

“If they were down there this whole time, hundreds of thousands of years, perhaps they could have survived the explosion, maybe given Matt shelter from the blast.”

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can you not be?”

Karen licked her lips. “Because…someone was in Matt’s apartment, they stole… they stole his bed sheets.”

“Bed sheets?” Jessica repeated incredulous. 

“Yes. And his pillows.”

“Missing bed sheets and pillows just means one of Matt’s friends has some kind of kinky or twisted way of dealing with their misery. And given the fact that he wore red leather and spandex at night, it’s not that far of a stretch to—”

“Matt has these... sensitivities, because of you know, his abilities.” She pulled away a stand of hair that had fallen across her face. “He once told me that normal sheets felt like sandpaper on his skin. He’s buys hypoallergenic pillows and is OCD about cotton blends with his clothes. Look, I know it sounds crazy, that I’m some grief stricken friend, but given we live in a world with giant green hulks, and people with bulletproof skin, then why is it so farfetched to imagine Matt somehow, some way, survived?”

Jessica noted how Karen referred to Matt in the present tense. “I don’t what you’re asking of me.”

“I want to hire you to find out if there was any way, if there’s a glimmer of hope he might have escaped.”

“You want to me to investigate if Matt survived a building falling on his head based on bed sheets and hope?”

“Yes. Because hope is all I've freaking got.”

***  
Jessica was a damn bleeding heart; it was the only way to explain why the hell she accepted Karen Page as a client. What the fuck was wrong with her? Didn't she just escape from a week in the life of crazy people?

Sighing, she poured herself a mug of coffee and started going through all the pictures on her phone. She’d taken shots of the blueprints from the architect and transferred them onto her computer to examine them better.

Sipping her coffee, she squinted at the schematics. The stupid pit was big, but the way the drawing was rendered made it seem like the cave took up a lot more space than she previously thought, like maybe the underground chamber ran further beneath the ground than just Midland Circle.

“Damn it,” Jessica muttered. 

If she really wanted more answers, there was only one person who had been inside that stupid pit longer than any of them. Jessica slumped against her chair. 

She went to pick up her phone just as it rang. “Hello?”

_“Yes. Ms Jones? This is Sister Angie, look, I don’t know who else to call. I read in the newspaper you were part of that explosion and –”_

“Look, I told you, I don’t want to donate any money and I don’t want to help whatever cause you’re peddling.”

Jessica hung up the phone then pulled out her cell. Scrolling through her address book, she stopped at her most recent entry, and tried not to hate herself for pressing send.

He answered by the fifth ring.

_“Jessica? I wasn’t expecting you to call, like, ever._

“Yeah, well, don’t pat yourself on the back or anything, Danny. Look, we have to meet. I want to talk to you.”

***

Karen sat at her desk, hanging up on the fourth number she tried, and scratching it off her list with a pencil. There were dozens left to go.

“Knock, knock.”

She recognized Foggy’s voice and shoved the notebook away, plastering on an unconvincing smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Foggy wandered inside and stood by her desk, broadcasting a rare hesitancy. He shuffled from one foot to the next before finally picking a single spot to stand. “I thought…I thought we could talk.”

His hair didn’t look washed and the redness of his eyes spoke of too many nights and days crying alone. 

“You look tired,” Karen said.

“So do you.”

They were the walking wounded, hearts bruised, souls raked over the coals—in mourning. But if Karen gave into her grief, if she didn't allow a tiny spark of ‘what-if’ to keep her company, her guilt would swallow her whole. 

“I thought we should discuss the missing person’s report.” Foggy held up a hand before she could speak. “I’m not talking about ending it, but about some type of timeline. Given what we know.”

“What do we know?”

His face fell. “That Matt went inside a building that exploded.”

Karen averted her eyes and she heard Foggy sigh. He collapsed in the chair across from her desk, rubbing both hands down his exhausted face. “Karen.”

“Foggy.”

“I spoke to every high-ranking bomb squad officer about their opinion regarding possible survivors…” He swallowed. “I never thought a hard-nosed ex-Army Ranger can act so sympathetic.” 

“I just….I can’t shake this feeling…”

“Don’t you think I want to believe in miracles? That I pray to God every day that he crawled out of there, somehow? That Matt Murdock's charm and Daredevil's luck was a lot stronger than ten tons of wreckage?” Foggy’s chest heaved and his voice shook. “I haven’t packed up his stuff and I’ve told his landlord not to worry about next month’s rent, because….because I don’t know…”

Karen ran over and wrapped her arms around Foggy’s shoulders and held him tight as his body trembled. She held on until he buried his face into her chest and sobbed for a friend he loved as much as Matt loved his damned city.

When Foggy had cried out his tears, he wiped at his face and apologized until Karen tugged at his arm and brought him to his feet. “Come on, we’ll get a late dinner.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

“It’s okay; I can finish it a little later.”

Karen took the notebook and shoved it inside her desk, knowing the number for every clinic and ER in a five-mile radius would be waiting when she returned.

***

Jessica wasn’t one for mincing words; she liked to put all her cards on the table, unlike the ghost she was chasing. She told Danny about the foolhardy case she’d accepted.

Danny stared at her, which was annoying and a little creepy. 

“Dude, just tell me more about the dragon skeleton cave. You were inside it the longest. Did you see passageways or any other tunnels?”

“It was really big; I was able to hide inside for a while.” Danny sat up straighter in his chair. “I even heard one of the Hand say the bones ran under most of the metro area.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s why harvesting it all would destroy the city.”

“They were going to kill millions of people so they could dig up dragon bones.”

“They were going to eradicate a city so they could live forever.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

Danny got up and started pacing; his nervous energy was another annoying trait. “If Matt got out, why hasn’t he made contact with us?”

“If, and that’s a big _if,_ maybe his ex-girl friend dragged him out and they ran away together to take their Shakespearian Tragedy bullshit on the road.”

Or maybe Matt killed his girlfriend they got buried side-by-side. 

“You know, he never told me how he did his whole blind ninja thing,” she muttered. “It seemed like some echolocation stuff, but for the rest of it, I was really curious.”

Jessica had found more articles on Matt about his childhood accident, but then she finished a half a bottle of whiskey before passing out. It’d been simple morbid curiosity.

Someone knocked on the door and interrupted her brooding. Walking over, Jessica opened it, and for the second time in a few days was taken aback at who was waiting on the other side. 

A young little thing of a nun looked up at her with wide eyes. “Ms. Jones?”

“Wow, you people of the cloth are really persistent. How many times have I told you I —”

“My name is Sister Angie,” she said, pursing her lips in annoyance. “We’ve been treating Mr. Murdock at our church for the last week; I’ve been trying to reach—”

Jessica grabbed her arm and dragged her inside, closing the door behind her. “What are you talking about?”

Sister Angie cleared her throat. “Mr. Murdock is under our care.”

“Bullshit.”

Sister Angie stood a little taller. “He was brought to us several days ago.”

“By who?” Danny demanded.

Jessica glared at him to shut up. 

“We don’t know. Sister Maggie is the one who discovered him.”

“You found an injured man on your door step and you didn’t call for help?” Jessica growled.

“He was in that…outfit. Sister Maggie insisted we treat him and not involve the police for fear he would be arrested.”

“Arrested is better than dead,” Jessica snarled.

Danny cleared his throat. “Sister, why did you come to us?” 

“Sister Maggie has been very protective of him, but some of us thought one of his friends should know where he is.”

“Why me?” Jessica asked.

“Because of the news; one of us is trying to locate Mr. Cage, but we’ve been unsuccessful. It was my job to contact you.”

“What about me?” Danny asked.

“Who are you?”

Danny threw up his hands. Jessica allowed herself a single moment of pleasure before turning back to the nun. “Tell us where Matt is.”

“Of course; I came here to take you to him.”

***

The church was only two miles outside the city; it was small and in need of repairs. Jessica followed Sister Angie with Danny close behind.

Jessica couldn’t remember the last time she stepped inside a church; it was quiet and smelled like burning candles and incense. Her body thrummed with adrenaline and paranoia, because this couldn’t be real. 

Sister Angie led them through several dark halls and into a room with windows and a couple of beds. Jessica felt her hand twitch.

“He’s in the last bed,” Sister Angie told them.

Jessica cut the distance in seconds, walking toward the bed, her eyes landing on Matt. “Jesus.” He was dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants, most of his torso swathed in bandages, his face a healing mass of cuts and bruises. There was a pitcher of water and a bible on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Do you call this helping?” she snapped at the nun. “I’ve seen back alleys with more medical support.”

“I can call an ambulance,” Danny said, pulling out his cell.

“Sister Maggie felt his soul was sicker than his body, that it would be better for him to remain here.”

“Well, you can tell Sister Maggie that she can practice voodoo somewhere else.” A wave of anger washed through Jessica at seeing the poor conditions Matt had been forced to endure. Her body ached with the need to punch someone. 

Her gaze slowly fell to sheets Matt slept on—they were silk. What the hell? The nuns couldn’t spring for an IV, but they broke into his place and snagged something soft for him?

Matt grimaced, his chest rising as he sucked in a labored breath. His hand flapped on the bed as he turned his head toward her, his eyes staring past her in confusion. “Jessica?”

Damn, did he memorize heartbeats? “Yeah, it’s me.”

“What…what are you doin’ here?” he rasped. 

“I don’t think I’m the one who should be asking that question.”

Matt made a low, pained sound in the back of his throat. “I…belong here.”

“Um, no, you don’t. Look, I don’t know why these nuns didn’t take you to a hospital…”

“Sister Maggie stabilized him and wanted to see him through his recovery,” Sister Angie said, stepping in.

“I…asked to stay,” Matt said, closing his eyes in obvious exhaustion. “Please, Jessica. Don’t call an ambulance.”

Jessica didn’t know what the hell was happening, but she knew damn well this was bigger than her. She turned toward Danny, who had been standing silently behind her. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Do not move. Stay here and keep watch.”

“We’re not taking him to an ER? I _own_ a hospital…”

“Not until the people who need to know about this are here.”

Danny flicked his eyes between Matt and Jessica. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Matt needs his family.”

***

Karen sat in the backseat of the taxi, her body shaking. Foggy gripped her hand so tight she couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What exactly did Jessica Jones say again?” Foggy asked. “Because I just paid this driver an extra hundred to break every speed limit in the five boroughs.”

“She said to drop everything and head to this church.”

“Did she say any words after that, preferably with details?”

“No. It was the _way_ she said it.”

“You dragged me out of Josie's, where I was trying very hard to numb my brain, to go to a church, based on Jessica Jones’ _tone of voice?”_

Karen turned around until she was face-to-face with him, her eyes pleading. “Do you trust me, Foggy?”

Foggy took her hand into both of his. “Always.”

***

Danny Rand, tight-lipped and anxious, met them out front. “Follow me,” he said.

Maybe Karen should have asked more questions, or for a further explanation; she was a damned journalist after all. But Foggy had been just as silent, the two of them buzzing with tension every step toward. 

The smell of illness hit her first, dried blood and disinfectant. Karen spotted Jessica standing beside a bed and Karen just _knew_ who was lying there, and her heart was ready to burst out of her chest. 

“Foggy,” she gasped, her voice shaking. 

But Foggy froze mid-step, panting harshly.

Karen watched Jessica bend down toward the man in the bed, speaking softly to him, then she took several steps back to wait off to the side.

Karen raced forward. She grasped Matt’s hand, her heart a kick drum inside her ears. “Matt.” God. He looked dead, his entire midsection was wrapped in bandages, and any visible skin was marred with bruises. She choked down the sob building inside her throat for fear Matt could hear it.

Matt slowly opened his eyes. “Karen,” he said his voice thin and filled with such doubt it broke her heart.

“Yeah, it’s me and…”

“Foggy,” Matt gasped his face crumpling as he squeezed his eyes closed.

Foggy stood rooted in place, his face draining of color. “Matty.”

Matt squeezed Karen’s hand even tighter. “Foggy,” he repeated under his breath, like he couldn't believe it.

“H—how?” Foggy stammered.

“I…I don’t remember.”

Karen kissed the top of Matt’s bruised fingers, resting them against her face, hoping it would offer him as much comfort as it did her. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered.

Tears streamed over Matt’s battered face. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Karen didn't know if he was apologizing to her or Foggy or to the world, but the dismay in his voce must have broken through Foggy’s state of shock. He was at Matt’s other side in an instant, looking at Matt as if he didn’t know what or where to touch. 

Matt made the decision for him, lifting up his other hand, Foggy taking it between his own fingers. 

“God, it’s so good to see you.” Foggy’s eyes darted up and down Matt’s body. “Even if you look like ten miles of bad road.”

Matt sucked in a breath, laughing. “Yeah, well, I can feel every mile.”

Karen looked around, her heart racing at the lack of any medical equipment to treat or even monitor Matt’s condition. She looked over at Jessica who had backed away to give them space. “Are they giving him anything for the pain?” Because Matt had to feel every horrible cut and bruise.

“I’m not in charge of this freak show,” Jessica huffed, but it was obvious by the way she kept glaring that she just as pissed.

A young nun walked toward them her voice quiet. “Sister Maggie has been caring for Mr. Murdock.”

Matt looked away at the mention of his caregiver’s name. It was a distressed reaction, one that increased Karen’s protective instincts. She rubbed circles over Matt’s hands. “Yeah? With what? Water and prayer?”

“Karen, it’s okay,” Matt said his voice brittle. “I’ve…I’ve been meditating.”

“No, Matt, it’s not okay,” Karen hissed. 

“Look, let me give you guys a few moments,” Jessica said, backing away. “I’m going to see where they keep the wine in this place.”

“Thank you,” Karen said her voice cracking. “Thanks for finding him.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t actually do much. But I’m still billing you for all my hours.”

Matt cracked the faintest of smiles; it was the most beautiful thing Karen had ever seen.

***

Jessica wasn’t one for great displays of emotion and the Matt Murdock sappy side-show reunion was tooth-rotting. But Jessica didn’t flee in the opposite direction; instead she looked on from a distance, in the far corner of the little makeshift sick room. She was glad Matt wasn’t dead; it was one less thing to weigh on her conscience. 

Foggy Nelson sat in a chair next to Matt’s bed still looking shell-shocked, but the color had returned to his cheeks. He held onto Matt’s arm like he might bolt out of bed and jump out a window at any second. 

“And you don’t remember what happened after you stayed behind to fight, you know…

“Elektra,” Matt said like it pained him to mention her name. Maybe it did.

“But why? I mean, didn’t you hear—”

“Foggy,” Karen warned. “This isn’t an interrogation.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just can’t...” Foggy looked down at Matt’s body, his face breaking again. “I’m sorry.”

But Jessica and the others had agreed not to tell Matt’s friends about him knowing the bomb was about to explode; a lie of omission. And despite the fact that he’d been reunited with his friends, Matt still looked haunted.

One of the first things Matt had told Jessica upon waking up was that he belonged here; a sanctuary for sinners.

“Hey,” Jessica said to the nun who had led her and Danny here. “Where’s the woman who took care of him?” The one who hadn’t taken Matt to a proper hospital. 

“Sister Maggie left when you arrived,” Sister Angie told them. “I don’t know when she’ll return.”

Before Jessica could process that tidbit, she heard several footsteps behind her, and found Danny leading Luke and Claire into the room. She hadn’t even noticed Danny had been gone for a while.

“Wow, it’s a real party now,” Jessica quipped. 

Claire walked ahead of Luke, carrying a black medical bag slung over her shoulder. “How is he?”

“I’m no doctor,” Jessica said. “But he’s alive, which is way better than we all previously thought.”

“Yeah, well, it couldn't be any worse than the first time I meet him.”

Jessica didn’t want to know what that meant.

“I can help,” Danny said, standing next to them. “After I called Luke, I started meditating so I could re-focus my chi. I can use it to help heal him.”

Claire adjusted the medial strap over her shoulder. “I’ll examine him and tell you where to direct your energy.”

It only took a few minutes for everyone to get back before things started to get freaky again. Jessica was tired of the carnival ride.

Danny nodded and Claire walked with him toward the bed where Karen and Foggy were huddled together.

Luke stood beside Jessica and looked on, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is a reunion I thought would never happen again.”

“Well considering how one of us was presumed dead.”

Luke took a deep breath and glanced at her as if he was choosing his words. “Jess, do you believe in miracles?”

“What the hell do you think?” 

“Pops always told me; the most wonderful thing about miracles is that they sometimes happen.”

“Are you going to start preaching next?” 

But Jessica stood by quietly while Claire approached Matt’s bed and Danny spoke to Foggy and Karen.

“You can do what?” Foggy asked. He looked ready to jump in front of Danny to prevent him from touching Matt.

Jessica allowed herself a small smile. She was happy Matt had such good friends; the man really needed them.

She felt Luke staring at her with a smile of his own. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said his grin wider. “Nothing at all.”

***

The last hour was a whir of emotion and Karen felt dizzy from the immensity of it all. She was glad that Matt lacked the energy to argue about accepting Danny’s gift, relenting to logic, and maybe the encouragement of everyone in the room.

Karen huddled next to Foggy as they watched Danny Rand closes his eyes and summon his power. 

All the hair along the back of Karen’s neck and over her arms stood up, the air between her and Matt filled with an electric charge, and a slight tingle shot up and down her spine as she watched energy form—a swirl of bright white and yellow coalesced in Danny Rand's hand then transferred into Matt’s body.

Matt’s eyes darted around, his mouth open as he breathed in short, rapid gasps, his entire body rigid as if bracing from some onslaught. How did a man who could sense the very properties of molecules, react to the very essence of life’s energy going through him?

Foggy hugged her shoulders, the two of them breathing at the same hyper rate. All Karen could do was pray— _please heal him, body and soul, please soothe away all of Matt’s guilt, his sorrow._

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Matt’s pained face slackened, the unyielding posture of his body relaxing into the bed, the ends of his lips softening into a peaceful smile.

“The glimmer of light—however small or large—is the first sight of hope and tells a person they can continue,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Foggy asked.

For the first time in days, Karen wiped away tears of joy instead of grief. “Just something to hang onto when you think all is lost.”

***

When the magic-healing party was finished, all those involved dispersed into groups. Jessica couldn’t wait to get the hell away.

Luke took Claire home and Danny went off to meditate or stick his finger into a light socket to recharge. Jessica ignored Karen and Foggy as they engaged in a debate in the far corner of the room as to how to get Matt home, leaving the man at the center of attention alone in a bed that probably should be burned.

Jessica wandered over to where he sat upright, his back supported by numerous pillows, those ugly red gashes now a faded pink, his previously pale skin a healthier color. “Wow, you don’t look like a corpse anymore.”

“Thanks. Although I think I might sleep for a week.” But despite the strength in Matt’s words, they lacked any of the energy that had been transferred into the rest of him.

Jessica had a pretty good idea as to why. “Do you remember what happened in the cave?”

Matt licked his lips, a sign that he wasn’t going to speak the truth. “It’s all still a little bit fuzzy.”

“Which part? The staying behind even though you knew a bomb was about to go off, or how you got to this church?”

Matt turned his face away from her. “The latter.”

“Is she alive?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Right.” Jessica was tired of his stupid games. 

“She was my responsibility,” Matt told her, like it justified his actions. 

It was such bullshit.

“Well, the last I looked, you have a lot more of those.” Jessica leaned closer to the bed and he looked over in her direction, his face furrowed. “You just got another chance at life; don’t let all that dark shit inside take it away from you.”

Matt cocked his head to one side. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Jessica snorted. “I’m glad the whole martyr thing failed, because I still haven’t figured out how you can hear neon.”

Matt quirked his lips into a smile. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again and I’ll explain it to you.”

Jessica walked away without giving him an answer, a tiny smile curving her lips. She nodded at Karen and Foggy, who looked way too excited to be playing caregivers to a super ninja. Foggy returned to Matt’s bedside yammering about the home baked meal he planned to cook when they got home. While Karen told Matt in no uncertain terms that she would sleep on his sofa tonight, no arguments allowed.

As Jessica left the little hole in the wall of a room, she stopped by the nun that brought them there, the PI side of her nagging her about something. “So, hey. Why did you go through all the trouble of tracking us down again?”

“Because some of us were a little…” Sister Angie hesitated. “Some of us felt that Sister Maggie’s dedication to helping Mr. Murdock was too stressful for her.”

“And where is this Sister Maggie anyway?”

“I don’t know. It’s …its kind of strange, she never left Mr. Murdock’s side until you arrived.”

Tucking away the tidbit for later, Jessica headed toward the exit, wondering where the nearest bar was located. 

“Ms. Jones?” Sister Angie called out.

“Yeah?” Jessica said, turning her head to look back at the nun.

“Blessed are those who are sad, for they will be comforted.”

Instead of giving her the finger, Jessica headed outside and allowed herself a minute when she didn’t hate everything in life, thinking that maybe today had been a good one.

***  
Fini-

I know the show is setting up some aspects Born Again for season 3, but I needed this right now :)


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